


Strange Times

by yikeswtfmate



Category: The Gentlemen (2019)
Genre: Alcohol, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Drugs, Explicit Language, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Non-Graphic Violence, References to Drugs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:28:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27759904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yikeswtfmate/pseuds/yikeswtfmate
Summary: Mickey Pearson puts his righthand man in charge of taking care of his sister, but Raymond doesn’t know what to do with this woman he’s never met before. Now that he has, there’s a small problem…his boss would kill him if he’d make a move on her. She’s also a bit nuts.
Relationships: Mickey Pearson/Rosalind Pearson, Raymond Smith/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

The office is quiet, save for the scratching of a pen on paper and the ticking of a clock that is starting to irritate Raymond to no end. He’s been meaning to either throw it out or switch it with the one that is in the living room, but he knows how his boss would not appreciate the disposal of a five thousand pound clock plated in gold. Raymond personally thinks it’s tacky, but it’s Mickey’s house after all, and he should be concentrating on sorting out the logistics for that shipment that’s supposed to go out to Italy anyway. He turns back to his laptop, intent on fulfilling his responsibilities for the day, when Mickey stops writing behind him and clears his throat, demanding his attention.

“Raymond, I need you to go to the airport tomorrow.”

Ray stands up from his chair at the desk and moves to the table in the middle of the receiving room. He’s learned all of Mickey’s tells during the ten years he’s been his righthand man, and when he stops sorting out his agenda to pour himself a cup of tea, Ray knows he needs to stand to attention.

“Any reason in particular?”

“I need you to pick up my sister and bring her to the estate.”

“Your sister?” Ray is utterly confused, mainly for the fact that this would be the very first time he’ll be meeting this woman.

He was aware that Mickey had a sister back in the States, but even though he knows every aspect of Mickey’s life inside and out, this elusive woman is his boss’ best kept secret. He’s unsure whether it’s just brotherly protectiveness, pure paranoia at the prospect of their enemies finding out there’s still another weak link next to Rosalind, or it’s simply the fact that Mickey doesn’t want to talk about his family back home.

He’s heard she’s been studying for a degree in business at Wharton, but he doesn’t know what to expect, for all the odd comments Mickey and Rosalind make about her when they think he’s not listening. One thing he’s completely certain of, however, is how much Mickey looks after her, considering the sizeable amounts of money that are going into her bank account every month.

Mickey raises an eyebrow over his teacup. “I don’t see why you’re acting as if you didn’t know I have a goddamn sister, Ray.”

Raymond shrugs, deciding that it’s best if he won’t tick off his boss at the moment. He’s been on edge ever since the whole debacle with Matthew Berger and Fletcher went down. Mickey’s decided to hold off his retirement plans until someone comes along with a better offer (preferably none of Lord George’s minions though), so he hasn’t only been stressed about maintaining the value of the goods, but also pissed off that he couldn’t just drink whiskey unperturbed all day in a countryside manor.

“I’ve sent you all the details you need. Don’t be late, I don’t want her left unsupervised for too long.”

Raymond nods, eager to go back to his laptop. It’s time for homework, and there’s nothing he love more than information.

“And Ray?” He turns back to Mickey, but the man’s just looking out the window, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Be careful.”

“Of course, boss. I’ll treat her like a princess.”

“It’s not her I’m worried about, you moron.” He says with a frown. “I meant you. She likes to play with her food first.”

*

The private jet should be a surprise, but when you’re in the line of business Raymond is in, he’s practically seen it all. The charcoal trench coat he’s wearing today is flapping in the whirl of wind so it’s a good thing he foregone the machine gun in favour of an inconspicuous handgun. He’s almost certain nothing would come up on their way from Heathrow to Oxfordshire, but he made sure David fully stocked the car before they left, just in case.

He’s waiting patiently in front of the car, lighting a cigarette, while he watches the airport’s employees fuss around the plane. The airstair is released and Ray stands up from leaning against the car. The smoke that he exhales blind him for a second, but he still needs to blink three more times to assure himself he’s not fucking hallucinating when a woman that he can only assume is Y/N Pearson steps off the plane. She drags a hand through her long curls, moving her head from side to side in what must only be slow motion. Her heels click on the pavement as she makes her way towards him, and Raymond smiles involuntarily.

“I see the money’s been treating you well, Raymond. Although I have to admit, I kind of miss the long hair.” She says before Ray can utter a word. She places a manicured finger under his chin, closing his mouth, kissing his cheek with a smack. “You don’t remember me, do you?” Her eyes are patient, as if exhausted after explaining a child the same exact thing for the past hour. “We’ve met fourteen years ago, when Mickey expanded the business to five farms. You were only an errand boy then, remember? Granted, I was only fourteen at that time, a gangly little thing with braces, of course you don’t remember me.”

Raymond’s mind flashes to a vague memory of a girl in a sequinted t-shirt, a choker that could only be worn with so much seriousness by a teenager, and boots with fur, mated in English mud. She blushed to the roots of her hair when he asked her if she knew by any chance where Mr Pearson was, having to deliver a parcel to him personally. She just pointed with a black fingernail towards her left and squeaked something unintelligible before ducking her head and running in the other direction.

“Ah, there he goes.” She sing-songs as she watches his eyes shift in recognition all over her, but there’s nothing left of her teenage self, having grown into her body, comfortable in her skin, confidence built up with precision and care, together with an appropriate, if rather extravagant fashion sense.

“I can’t believe how much you’ve grown.” He says, realising that he sounds like a cliché when she rolls her eyes.

“Right, that’s what happens in life, honey. Can we please go? We can exchange pleasantries in the car, this wind is ruining my hair.”

Raymond keeps the door open for her, nodding to David who just finished loading the trunk with her luggage and he hops in the backseat next to her.

“I hope we’re stopping for lunch on our way.” She warns. “I’m starving and I couldn’t eat anything since I woke up because of those stupid turbulences.”

“Mickey is expecting us to be there in an hour.” He responds cautiously.

“Mickey can go fuck himself. I want a pizza and I haven’t been to Zizzi in a long time, so you better take me there, Raymond, or I’ll just ask David to _kindly_ move to the passenger seat.”

The man in question looks at Ray in the rear view mirror, awaiting instructions. Ray sighs and nods once again, now starting to realise why his boss felt the need to warn him in regard to his sister. He hopes he won’t have to deal with her for long after she’s safely delivered to Mickey, because for all her beauty, she’s starting to piss him off.

“Oh, don’t look so glum.” She chides, after a few minutes of him plainly ignoring her. “I’m good company, I promise. I’m just cranky because I’m hungry. I’m hangry, Ray. I just need you to feed me.” She flutters her eyelashes, and she rests her hand on his thigh, purposefully ticking him off.

Ray shifts in his seat, trying to put as much distance between them, to which she just scoffs and rolls her eyes. This woman is dangerous, and for all his sinful thoughts that have been going through his mind ever since he laid eyes on her, Ray has to remind himself that this is his boss’ little sister, _little_ as in _eleven years younger_ for fuck’s sake. He’s positively sure that if he even lays a finger on her, his balls would be cut off and fed to the hunting dogs.

They finally stop after a short silent trip, and he helps Y/N into the fairy lit restaurant, leaving David posted in front of the car. He hopes there will be no more trouble like last time, having had his share of adventures for the goddamn decade.

Holding a chair for her, Ray waits for Y/N to take off her coat, and now he suddenly feels the need to swallow hard, as he rakes his eyes over her body. She’s wearing a leather skirt that is too tight to possibly be comfortable, but long enough to almost meet her knee high boots; her sweater is thick, appropriate for the cold January weather in the south of England, yet Raymond can’t help but wonder if her nipples are as perfect as her lips. Speaking of which, they curl up in a patient yet satisfied smile, a raised eyebrow that wants to show him she’s merely allowing him to inspect her so blatantly.

After she orders her pizza and Ray asks for a glass of water, clearly showing his disapproval for this unexpected stop. He can feel a nudge on his shin and she smiles at him in a way that he can only describe as charitable.

“You know, I’ve had the biggest crush on you back then.” She says and Ray chokes on his water. “It’s true. You were this tall rugged man with long hair that I wouldn’t have known what to do with then, but would definitely know how to handle now.” She smirks, while Ray raises an eyebrow, silently asking her to stop talking. Mainly because his imagination is starting to go haywire. “The beard suits you. But I kept thinking about licking your jaw all the way here so it’s a shame really that I can’t now. Those were some long 8 hours, Ray, I had to occupy myself somehow.”

“Y/N, you should really stop talking.” Ray would give himself a pat on the back for all the restraint he’s showing at the moment. There’s nothing he would like more than to shove her in one of the bathroom stalls and have his way with her, and by the look in her eyes, she knows exactly what he’s thinking so she’s relentless.

“Why? Afraid Mickey would disapprove? I thought you were a big boy, Ray, who doesn’t have to ask permission.”

“It’s not about permission, and we both know it. Your brother would literally kill me if…”

His words are cut short by the waiter who’s bringing Y/N her food and brazenly ogles her down. Ray can feel his hands involuntarily clench into fists, his jaw set at the man who would not _just fucking go_ and keeps offering her pepper, sauce, or his fucking cock for that matter, because it’s so fucking obvious that’s what he’d actually want to say. Y/N just smiles sweetly, humouring his clumsy flirting, and Ray is more than certain that she’s starting to form a habit of doing things just to piss him off. When she touches the waiter’s forearm, he growls lowly, directing their attention to him. She feigns surprise, but he can read her amusement, while the waiter seems to decide whether to apologise or take his chances and go off. Ray knows that his glasses might put people at ease, making him look approachable, friendly, _easy-going_ at first, but he’s perfected the frown and posture to go with it that puts people immediately in their places. Not to mention that spending over a decade in the business would shape anyone in a ruthless brute if need arises.

“My _girlfriend_ here would like to enjoy her food now, thank you. She doesn’t need anything else, mate, you can go.”

The waiter finally scampers off, and Ray knows he’ll regret saying anything before he turns back to Y/N. She’s smirking like a bloody Cheshire cat if he’s ever seen anyone actually doing it, satisfied beyond belief.

“Don’t.” He warns when she opens her mouth to make a smartass remark, but she raises her hands in surrender and proceeds to eat.

Another battle of restraint and patience, as this woman eats as if she’s in a bloody porn movie, and who the fuck can eat _pizza_ seductively anyway, for fuck’s sake. Raymond takes a deep breath, fishing his phone out of his coat pocket and calls his boss, doing his best to ignore the moans, the finger sucking and the swirling tongue in front of him.

“Hey, boss. Got Y/N from the airport, we’ll just be a bit late.”

“She wanted to eat, didn’t she?” Mickey asks and Ray can hear the exasperation in his voice. Apparently his boss is well aware of his sister’s antics, but it would’ve been better if _Raymond_ were better prepared for the full force of what this woman can get out of him in a short half an hour.

“Tell him to suck a bag of tiny dicks, I don’t need his judgment.” Y/N says between licking a side of her finger and plucking an olive off her slice.

“We’re in Uxbridge, hopefully we’ll be there in an hour or so.” Raymond notifies, choosing to ignore her again.

“Fine. Just…make sure she stays out of trouble. It can stick to her like a fly to shit.” And with that Mickey disconnects the call.

Raymond sighs and puts his phone back. There is an uneasy feeling flowing through him, his instinct telling him to run away in the other direction, to avoid interacting with Y/N at all cost until her return to the States, but there’s another part of him, more primal, more carnal that is drawn to her. He hates it, mainly because there is no logical reasoning behind it, and he’s a _very_ cerebral person, and he can’t figure her out for the life of him. Maybe it’s just the fact that she’s probably the first woman to act like that with him, as if she doesn’t care about the consequences, doesn’t give a toss whether he’ll bite or not. _She likes to play with her food first,_ were Mickey’s words, which make so much more sense now.

Raymond can’t put his finger on it, and although he can have his pick of women anywhere he’d step foot in – he is very much aware of how handsome he is, thank you very much – there is something about Y/N that demands to be unlocked. Or maybe it’s just that her tits look really great in that sweater and it’s the whole “forbidden fruit” bullshit. Regardless, Ray just wants to drop her off and go back to London where he can drown himself in work so he can forget about her. Or maybe have a night out, pick someone at a bar and pretend it’s her, because he’s absolutely certain by this point that it’s just the novelty of Y/N that lures him in, and definitely not those eyes full of mischief.


	2. Chapter 2

The moment the car pulls in front of the entrance, Y/N bounds out of the door. She’s been quiet during the car ride, humming a vaguely familiar tune under her breath, while scribbling away in her planner. Raymond wondered what her plans might be in a country she’s only visited once more than a decade ago, but he took his phone out, deciding it’s better to tend to his own responsibilities, rather than try to taunt her again.

Now, he instructs David to bring the suitcases in the house, taking a deep breath before stepping in. He finds Y/N in Rosalind’s arms, as Mickey fusses around them, taking her coat and bag, and it shocks Ray into realising that for all of his boss’ might, he’s entirely wrapped around _both_ of their fingers. Y/N just laughs at him, bumps their shoulders together and flicks his forehead, even though the man’s practically towering over her.

There’s a moment when he makes eye contact with Mickey, but Raymond’s had more than his share of Y/N by this point. Not to mention that he would rather avoid thinking about her bent over the back of the couch when her brother is standing right there. He raises his phone and ducks to the office with a nod from Mickey.

Four hours later, Raymond steps back down into the living room, having finished all his duties for the day. He hears Y/N’s laugh as he’s about to take the corner and into the living room, but the sound makes him stop in his tracks. He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face, shocked by the musical tones in it which plays in direct contrast to the snort that follows it. Shaking himself out of his trance, he enters the room where Mickey is laying in an armchair, whiskey tumbler in a hand, while Rosalind offers Y/N a glass of gin. He follows the curve of her bare thigh, splayed over the armrest of the recliner, now that her boots are thrown under the coffee table. He catches her gaze and the glint in her eye tells him that she’s seen him staring. There’s a barely noticeable wink, concealed as she takes a sip of her drink, but her other hand pulls the hem of her skirt an inch higher, seemingly unconsciously to the uninterested eye.

“Right, I’ll be heading out.” Raymond clears his throat, trying to shake the dangerous road his thoughts would like to take by turning his attention to his boss.

“Have a drink with us, Ray.” Mickey offers. “I wanted to talk to you about some things I need to be brought in from the apartment. I’m not sure when I’ll be back in London this week.”

“Wait a minute. We’re not staying in London? I thought the countryside was just for the weekend.” The expression on Y/N’s face turns from confused to dubious. Raymond’s starting to learn her tells and he wonders whether this might turn into a confrontation.

“The apartment’s being redecorated. We’ll be staying here for a couple of months.”

“Oh no. No, no, no. I’m not staying here in the middle of nowhere, I’m going to London.”

“It’s not the middle of nowhere, Y/N. Oxford is 10 minutes by car.” Mickey’s tone holds an edge of desperation, which might only mean he was fully prepared for this discussion and knew exactly how it would go.

“As I was saying, in the middle of nowhere.” She nods. “I’m going to stay in London and I’ll see you when you come to work.”

“I’m not paying for you to stay in a hotel for two months just because you’re throwing a tantrum and can’t sit still.” Mickey snaps harshly, slamming his tumbler on the glass table.

Rosalind lets out a long sigh, and with a shake of her head, she makes her way out of the living room, patting her husband on the shoulder just as a precaution. It seems she was well aware of how this conversation would unfold before it even started. As for Raymond, although he’s a man that has seen nearly it all in his line of work and doesn’t get uncomfortable easily, he’d rather have taken his leave a while ago. Instead, he just takes a seat on the couch facing his boss, close enough to Y/N that he can smell the faint cherry scent of her skin. There are arguments thrown around, a familial fight that he mostly tunes out, in favour of thinking about that whiskey he recently bought at an auction.

“Fine, then I’ll stay at Raymond’s.” Y/N’s voice sharply cuts through his thoughts, snapping him to attention. “I’m sure he won’t mind.” She adds, an inquiry that would sound more like a statement, save for the expectant eyebrow.

Mickey smacks his lips, and sighs heavily, but he does turn to look at Ray. There’s a silent exchange between the boss and his righthand man, and Y/N idly wonders whether her brother would give in just to get out of this fight; he never was one to argue, especially because, for all his protectiveness, he’d also give her anything she’d want. Would she take advantage of that? Of course, she would, _if just to **not** be stuck in the countryside, _she thinks. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that he won’t know every single thing that she’ll be up to, and she’s more than sure she can _persuade_ Ray to keep quiet.

Her gaze shifts from her brother to Raymond, whose jaw is set and expression unreadable. She swings her feet on the floor, making sure to inch her skirt even higher. She’s more than aware that if she’d stand up her butt would nearly come out of the leather, but she doesn’t miss the almost imperceptible tick in his eye or how his hand slowly tightens on his glass.

“I have enough rooms. She can stay if she wants to.”

“See? Problem sorted.” That Cheshire smile she’s perfected makes another appearance, more than unsettling in the long shadows of the old mansion.

Raymond has the sense he’s either made the biggest mistake of his life, or just stepped into something he won’t be able to handle. Either way, judging by Mickey’s sigh, he would’ve preferred to have her under his own roof. However, they both know he can trust Raymond with her safety, if not with dampening her chaos a little.

“Don’t worry, Mickey.” She says, but she’s still looking at Ray. “I’m going to be a _very_ good girl.” And with that promise, Raymond knows he’s in deep shit.

*

The heavy smoke that hangs in the air should be indication enough of what Y/N has been up to for the past half an hour while he was preparing the guest room and taking a quick shower. Raymond goes to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water while carefully inspecting her stance. She’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, her eyes glazed, yet fixed onto an unknown thought swirling through her mind. Her fingers unconsciously tap on the joint above the ashtray, before her head falls slowly on the backrest.

Raymond takes a seat next to her, ready to snap her out of it if need be, but she seems to have a quiet one, lazy and fuzzy, enough to mellow her out her typical vibrancy. He hands her the water and she takes it with her free hand, while the other one brings the joint to her lips once more. A slow inhale and then the release of smoke in one swift circle. She watches it expand, lose its tight form until it evaporates above them. She passes him the spliff without a word in his direction, without as much as a cursory glance. While he inhales, she takes a long sip of water and wets her lips, tongue darting out, pink in the dim light of the lamp in the corner.

“That’s some good shit.” She declares with evident satisfaction.

“Didn’t think you’d find it that fast.”

“Ray, Mickey is my brother. Do you really think I don’t have a sixth sense when it comes to it?” Her head lolls towards him and she blinks lazily at him. “Plus, the tea box? Really? I know we Americans don’t usually drink tea, but come on. I thought you’d put more effort in hiding that shit from me. I know it only took me 10 minutes to come back down, but still, are your expectations that low when it comes to me?”

“Oh, trust me, Y/N. You’ve exceeded any expectation I might have had of you.”

“Oh yeah?” Her smile spreads, turning into a smirk, but there isn’t much energy into it and it rather looks like a lopsided grin. “Care to elaborate on that?”

Raymond takes another puff, eyes narrowing in concentration. He can’t say whether it’s the relaxing effect taking a hold of his body, or just that she’s finally quiet, dimmed down somehow, less intimidating in a large t-shirt that looks suspiciously familiar, but he allows himself to stop trying to predict her responses.

“For some reason I thought you’d be a messy teenager who’s too shy to even make eye contact.”

“Which I was ten years ago.” She points out and he nods once in acknowledgement.

“But I was faced with this grown woman who wouldn’t take no for an answer. You’re still the spoiled prick I imagined though, just somehow differently.”

“You’re too sweet to me, babe.” Y/N smiles mockingly and with that, she closes her eyes.

“Are you going to tell me what that was all about or do I have to stroke your ego a little bit more?” Ray places his feet on the coffee table, inspecting his slippers this way and that, realising that this would be the first time a woman would spend more than one night in his house. He finds that oddly enough he doesn’t mind.

“Already demanding, huh?” Y/N takes back the joint, which gives him the opportunity to notice just how smooth her fingers are between his. “I have some meetings to attend to, and I’d rather my brother wouldn’t know. I was aware of the situation with the apartment and knew I’d get my way in the end, but I have to admit, bunking with you is an entirely added bonus.”

“Meetings?” Ray waits for more details, but she just hums. “Do you even know anyone in London?”

“Oh, Raymond, sweetheart.” Her eyes open and her head tilts to one side again so he can fully see the pout on her face. His train of thought is derailed for a second by his imagination that just offers him a flash of teeth biting into soft lips, erasing the mockery and delving into deeper depths. “I see your brother has kept you completely in the dark if you really don’t know what I’ve been up to. Truth be told, I’m not sure how much _he_ knows.” She adds as an afterthought.

“And are you going to illuminate me?”

“I’m here to find him a new buyer. You all fucked up pretty badly last time, so I came to sort your shit out.”

Raymond smiles, although he can’t say he’s not intrigued. Here she is, an American woman who’s just graduated college, barely having stepped foot in this country, thinking she’ll do a better job than Mickey’s entire network system, combined with the entire expertise of their business.

“Big words coming from a little girl.”

“You think I’m joking?” It sounds more like a statement, than a question, and she looks at him, a tone of genuine surprise. “I’ve already warned you not to underestimate me, Ray.”

“Fine. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt then. But if you’ll fuck some shit up somehow, I’ll send you packing myself.”

“Aw, babe, you’re super cute when you’re acting all tough and mean.” Her hand finds his knee again, and he can feel the warmth through his joggers as she trails her fingers over his thigh. “I’d love it if you could show me what all those girls have been telling me you can do.”

“What girls?” He flexes his leg involuntarily, as a grunt escapes his lips, suddenly unable to form words.

“Raymond, I’ll tell you this one more time.” She stands up, stretching her arms and legs slowly like a cat, allowing Ray to see that that is indeed one of his t-shirts that she must’ve stolen when he let her wander through the house. A shiver runs down his spine at the thought that she was in his bedroom. “ _Don’t_ underestimate me. I know more than you think.”

And with that she scrunches his face in one of her hands and kisses him with a loud smack. Underneath the taste of weed, he can still smell the whiskey she’d nicked earlier, but most importantly one small part of his brain warns him that if he moves one inch there’ll be no coming back. So he clenches his jaw and closes his eyes, trying to get a hold of himself, trying with all his might not to throw his arms around her and pin her underneath him in an instant. 

One of his legs is trapped between hers, but to keep his hand from gripping the back of her bare thigh would be more likely a titan’s strength, than a mere mortal’s like him. His fingers trace the muscles under the silky skin and she pushes her tongue out, demanding entrance. He pulls his head back, hand tightening on her leg but she’s too distracted to notice the pressure.

“Y/N, no.”

“Buzzkill.” She rolls her eyes, but straightens up again, grabbing the water bottle on the way out of the living room. “You’ll come around eventually.” She yells over her shoulder as she climbs the stairs to her bedroom.

“I have a feeling you’re right.” He mutters and starts rolling another joint.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s been almost a month and Raymond can’t yet say whether Y/N’s pulling his leg or his skills are starting to fail him, because there is no other explanation for her completely falling off the face of the earth for hours on end without him knowing anything about it. When she told him so nonchalantly about her plans that first night, he expected he’d be able to track her every movement without too much fuss. Y/N Pearson, however, is a woman of many talents, so he was forced to finally admit that she was right in warning him not to underestimate her.

It’s not to say that it’s because of lack of trying – he’s had David tail her Uber for a few days but she somehow managed to slip away, only to pop back up in Oxford exactly the second Mickey started handing him his ass because she was nowhere to be found until midnight. Then he tried tracking her phone, just to find out that she’s been leaving her phone on the coffee table every day, although Rosalind somehow always knew how to get in touch with her (whether she’d let _Mickey and Raymond_ know where Y/N was, was a completely other story). Finally, he decided he’ll just tail her himself, but that backfired when he followed her into a nursery store without too much preamble.

Trying to find his bearings, thoroughly confused as to why she’d enter this shop, suddenly horrified she might be _pregnant_ with a _fucking cunt, whoever this fucker is he’ll find his death today_ , he was startled by a hand slipping on his arm, bringing him flush against her body. Looking down, he couldn’t help wondering what the fuck she was on about now, smiling innocently at the approaching shop assistant and completely ignoring him.

“Hi, darling!” She thrilled in the most obnoxious voice he’s ever heard. “My hubby and I are expecting this tiny wonder that’s growing inside of me, and we’d like to look at some cute little tiny clothes for this amazing bundle of joy that will grace our lives!”

To say that Raymond never felt more terrified in his entire existence should say something, considering he has three older sisters who each had the right mind to think he was actually their little puppet throughout his entire childhood. Three hours later, after listening to more coos than he’d care to ever experience again and now knowing how much every single stroller in the Kingdom fucking costs, Y/N escorts him outside (still latched like a fucking octopus to his arm, never having let go) and turns to him with another blinding smile that would be more fitting for a snake? Fox? Fucking Loch Ness monster? He’d take anything over her at that moment.

“What the fuck.” He doesn’t even have the energy to _try_ to appear more threatening.

“What, babe? I thought you wanted to know what I’m doing all day. Isn’t that why you and Mickey have been freaking out? That I’m being naughty and doing _unspeakable things_? I just showed you that I’m being a good girl.”

He looks at her for a moment, his jaw set. Maybe one of these days he’ll just break his bottom teeth from all the tongue biting and teeth grinding he does whenever she opens her mouth. There’s a small part of his brain that lets him know it’d be great to get back at her by spanking her ass until it’s bright red, but he pushes the thought aside and just turns around and starts walking away.

“Hey!” She yells, heels clicking rapidly on the pavement until she’s in step with him again. “What the fuck, Ray? You can’t just up and leave!”

“I can and I am. I’m not putting up with your shit anymore, love. You’re Mickey’s responsibility, not mine, so you can do whatever the fuck you want for all I care.”

“Aw, Ray! Come on, babe, you don’t mean _that!_ ”

She grabs his hand, forcing him to stop and look at her. Disregarding the fact that they’re in the middle of a very busy shopping centre and everyone has to get around them, Y/N swings their interlocked hands between them, nearly making Ray think she’s a sweet angel. It’s easy to forget she’s been keeping him on his toes from the moment she stepped foot on British soil, when she looks up at him through her eyelashes, a small smile on her lips, almost – but not entirely apologetic.

He sighs and hangs his head. She _will_ be the death of him, but apparently he has no control whatsoever over his body or feelings anymore, and with an arm around her shoulders, Ray brings her into him and directs her back in the direction of their house. ( _Their house? Since when did he start thinking of his own house as_ theirs?) He just wants to go home and maybe erase this whole encounter with something strong to drink.

He’s not even aware they’re holding hands until they are forced to split by an errant toddler. He notices how she smiles over at the little pig-tailed girl, a softness in her eyes that is surprising in a way that strangely warms his own heart. She takes his hand again, interlacing their fingers on reflex, unaware of Ray’s slow blink in her direction. He’s thoroughly enjoying her little display of affection, having more or less been subconsciously craving them ever since she first kissed him.

There’s a flutter in his heart, a missed beat that makes him question this whole _thing_ with Y/N. He’s more than aware that she pisses him right the fuck off, but he can’t help but miss her presence and erratic personality the whole time she’s not with him. One month, and she’s already clawed her way in, gnashing unintentionally at the veins around his heart, until she’s found her way in. With a start, he realises that above all the dirty thoughts he’s had, all the images of her bent form before him, he wants to protect her, keep her safe, tuck her under his arm and kiss her head.

He realises now that whenever he steps down into the kitchen to find Y/N making coffee, still dressed in one of his t-shirts (having been seemingly diving into his wardrobe on a regular basis), bed hair sticking out, eyes half closed, smelling like she’s still dreaming, his heart swells. She would hand him his mug and with her own in her hand, she would trudge her feet behind, peck his cheek and stroke his jaw on her way up to her morning shower. And now, he doesn’t want anything else, but that. _That_ moment to keep happening, every morning, every day for the rest of his life and _what in the name of Jesus, Joseph and Mary, what the **fuck**!_

*

“I’m home!” Raymond announces as he steps into the house. For a split second he’s surprised once again at the words he’s just uttered, unsure about how to feel knowing that Y/N is still currently living under the same roof as him.

He was comfortable in his life, alone and uncommitted, sure that he would never find anyone who would understand the sort of existence he’s leading, until Y/N barged into his life guns blazing and fucking up whatever sense of security he had until now. Not to mention that understanding earlier in the week that his feelings for her developed so high as to shoot the fucking moon did nothing to alleviate his irritation with her. If anything, it’s gotten worse, especially since she’d become even more secretive lately, until he snapped at her in the morning before she left with a final slam of the front door.

He doesn’t want to get into another fight with her, not in the mood for another shouting match where he’d try to pry out whatever the fuck she’s been doing. He’s tired of her keeping him at an arm’s distance, but doesn’t want to admit that he’s hurt by her not trusting him enough to confide in him. A tiny voice in his head points out that he hasn’t been truthful with her either – hiding his own feelings can only show he’s a coward, but he waves that away. All in good time, he’s not in a hurry, although the thought of Mickey finding out does more than put him off the whole ordeal.

“Got you that ice cream you kept going on about like a bloody lunatic yesterday!” He shouts, trying to distract himself from the dark thoughts that swirl into his mind.

There’s no response and the house feels empty, cold, _desolate._ An icy shiver runs through his spine, worst case scenarios running before his eyes. He’s left Y/N at home, having just stepped in when he went out to buy some groceries. He declined her offer of joining him when he saw how tired she looked, but now he fears it was a mistake.

He takes out the gun from its holster, slowly moving around the hallway and now that he’s closer to the back of the house, he can hear a small tune playing from the living room. He steps carefully around that particular creaky floorboard and inspects the space which seems clear. It’s only when he stands next to the kitchen island, that he sees Y/N’s head over the sofa. She’s sitting on the floor, next to the vinyl recorder, chin on her knees, hair falling around her body, as if she’s surrounded by a halo.

Raymond lowers his gun, places it on the kitchen counter, but is unsure what he should do next. This is unprecedented, having never seen Y/N this _small_ before, shoulders hunched over as if in defeat. He makes up his mind, and sits himself on the floor next to her, back to the sofa, close enough that she can touch him if she so wants, but far enough to retreat if she wants to be left alone.

“This was my grandpa’s favourite song.” She murmurs.

She places her cheek on her knee, a movement small enough to allow him to look at her. He notices the tear stains on her face and there’s nothing he wouldn’t want to do more in that moment than to just brush his thumbs under her eyes and kiss her forehead. In time with the lyrics, she starts whispering the words, silently asking him to pay attention. He realises this is important to her, so he rests his head on the sofa and closes his eyes. He vaguely remembers buying this particular vinyl in a dingy shop, thinking it’s one of the most beautiful love songs he’s ever heard.

There’s a shift and Y/N crawls between his legs, curling in on herself on his chest. He raises his arms, placing one around her waist and another one to brush her hair. One of her palms rests on his bicep, drawing slow circles into the soft sweater, and she continues to murmur the song.

Raymond keeps his eyes closed, waiting for her to speak, revelling in the feeling of her skin. Her hair is soft and smells like vanilla, mixing in with the undertone of her cherry shower gel, and he wonders whether there is anything sweeter in this entire world than to hold her in his arms.

Rosalind warned him that there’s more to Y/N than the trouble she likes to stir, more than the reckless girl who lunges herself into aristocratic gossip and shitty remarks intended to shock. He’s used by now to the brash personality, peppered with unabashed flirtations and caustic curses, the brilliance of her mind whenever they debate an important subject, the vast knowledge that she still surprises him with. But this is never something he would have expected her to be. This mellow and sad part of her that she’s been hiding so well is the entire galaxy in his eyes, confusing him to no end as to why she would show it to him. _She trusts_ you, _Raymond,_ Rosalind’s words echo in his mind, going against all he thought he knew about her. _She’ll never say it, but she’ll show you._

He kisses her temple then, a smile on his lips, but he wants to take her pain away. He wants to stop the tears from falling, although he’s not entirely sure what caused them in the first place. She looks up at him, eyes searching his face, and she kisses his jaw tentatively. It tickles her lips so she licks them, but Raymond stops her in her tracks when he kisses her cheek softly. He doesn’t move back, waiting for her reaction and there’s a question there, behind her pupils, blown wide, unsure and afraid. She moves her face closer until her breath fans over hips lips, and her body turns over his, and now they’re chest to chest. He brushes a strand of her hair behind her ear, thumb caressing the side of her neck. She leans into the touch that now moves up to her cheek, and her head rests in his palm now. She opens her eyes again, waiting, asking, hoping.

_This is it,_ he thinks. This is enough and he gives in. Raymond kisses her then, the sweet scent of chocolate on her tongue, tentatively at first, capturing her lips in a dance that he dreamed of having – it’s different, _softer,_ more meaningful than the rough kiss they’ve already shared. Lavishing her, hands move into his hair, while pulling and sucking at his lips. She shifts again, straddling his hips, leaning into him so he moves an arm on her waist to steady her. She moans into his mouth, the sweetest melody covering his veins and there’s fire in his lungs that spreads around his entire body. They come up for air and he peppers kisses on her brow, her cheeks, her nose, while she places her palms flat on his chest. Her forehead rests on his and there’s a moment where they just breathe each other’s air.

“I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me.” She whispers.

“We both know I have to bruise your ego from time to time so you can come back to reality.”

“You’re too good for me, Raymond.”

He brushes a hand over the side of her head, taming her hair after his ministrations. She leans into his touch again, filling his heart with affection.

“I’m really not, love. I’m too fucked up to ever be good _enough,_ nevermind _too_ good.” He smiles. “And speaking of fucked up, your brother is going to kill us if he finds out about this.”

“Well, that’s a sobering thought. Please, never speak of Mickey when we’re in this position, ok?” She chides, rubbing her hips into his to emphasise her point, which earns her a surprising whine in return. “Oooh, I like the sound of _that._ ”

“The floor is really not the place to be doing this, babe.” He grunts, as she starts sucking and licking at his neck.

His arms find their way to her hips again, forcing her down, trying to create as much friction as possible. There’s an uncomfortable strain to his jeans, and his cock is suddenly even more alert and asking for attention. His unspoken plea is clearly understood and with a giggle, her hands fly to his belt buckle, tugging and loosening. He feels more than sees the zipper opening, fingers creeping under his shirt, leaving a burning trail on his skin. With a grunt, he grabs the back of her neck, bringing her even closer, sucking on her tongue and demanding her own breath. He pulls her sweater off with his free hand while she tries to make good work of removing his jeans.

Raymond warned her that the floor is not fit for this, so he grabs her ass and hoists her up, leaving a trail of jeans, sweaters and shirts behind them as he makes his way to the bedroom, never letting her go. He places Y/N carefully on the bed, intent on making this last, and not rush it into a quick and dirty fuck. He looks at her, splayed before him, red faced and wet lips, such expanse of bared skin just for him. He lowers himself above her, bruising her with another kiss.

“You’re mine now.” He whispers into her lips and she nods, pulling him closer.

_Bloody fucking hell, Y/N Pearson will be the death of him._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N’s found a buyer, but Raymond is less than happy about it. He just hopes his worries won’t become reality.

Mickey is starting to lose his patience with Y/N. Watching her over the rim of his glass, he notices there’s something off about her, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. Rosalind’s not home yet, having had to finish some other business or another at the garage, which is a shame because sometimes he needs her to understand his own sister.

He’s annoyed with how secretive Y/N’s been, and although he’s trying to give her space, as his wife warned he should, he’s dissatisfied with the morsels of information she’s been feeding him. This is not right, and he knows all too well how stubborn she could be, so even if she’d be in deep shit, the little asshole would still not tell him.

He grinds his teeth, intent on having a chat with Ray, because that fucker’s been like a fucking vault as well. Are they hiding something from him? He wonders, his gaze shifting to the man who’s yet again seated next to Y/N on the sofa. Mickey’s eyebrow twitches involuntarily when he catches the look that passes between those two, and _what the fuck is going on._

“Right, so pleasantries aside, I have good news.” Y/N speaks up, tearing her eyes away from Ray. “I have a buyer.”

Ray takes a sharp intake of breath, and leans towards the bottle of whiskey that’s been sitting before them. Mickey closes his eyes for a brief second, hoping and praying to all that’s fucking mighty his sister did not _stir shit up again._ He knew he shouldn’t have trusted her when she’d only tell him it’s about the business. He _knew_ there was something fishy when she’d just disappear for hours and days on end and reappear with a bright smile and a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Y/N, what the fuck did you do?” Mickey demands, and his jaw is clenched, eyes shut as he tries to gain some semblance of composure.

“Solved your shit, that’s what I did.” She shrugs, grabbing the whiskey for herself and pouring some more in her own glass. “Look, I really don’t want to listen to your whole spiel about how I’m not supposed to interfere, and how this is your shit that you have to deal with. We’ve already established you fucked it up royally last time. All of us here know that I don’t really have anything to gain from you selling, except to not have to listen to you bitch and moan all the time about how tired and stressed you are.”

There’s a moment of reluctant acknowledgement from him so she continues. “I have my connections here, and believe it or not, a pair of tits and some brains actually got me further than your little game with Berger did. Now.” Y/N places the glass on the table and interlaces her fingers on her knees, waiting for their full attention. “Are you interested in what I have for you or not?”

Raymond sighs beside her. He doesn’t like this more than he likes the drunkards that shout as they pass his house at 2 in the morning, but the truth of the matter is that Mickey _does_ want to sell, for all the bravado he’s been putting up for the past year. Plus, even though he’s known Y/N for close to two months now, she’s had plenty of opportunities to show him just how clever she is. He supposes there’s no point in dismissing what she has to say, for all the wariness he’s holding in his heart, and not just because she’d be up to bash Mickey’s face in.

Ray can see the same thoughts going through his boss’ head. He can read them right in the small crease on his forehead and the tick of his jaw. He doesn’t like it more than he does, but he’ll have to at least hear what she has to say.

Mickey stands up, hands in his pockets, and Ray already knows he’ll start pacing around the room until he’s completely satisfied. They will be in here for a long time, and having Y/N involved, it can only mean that this plan will have to be not only airtight, but bulletproof and secured in bubble wrap, just to be sure.

*

This plan is _not_ airtight, and Ray definitely doesn’t like it. He has a feeling in his bones that this will go sideways, but he keeps his mouth shut. He’s already expressed his thoughts to Mickey, who didn’t want to hear it. For all the holes Ray’s tried poking through Y/N’s plan, she seems awfully confident this Oscar Christie would come through. He can’t understand exactly why Mickey agreed to everything in the end, but Ray can just fucking hope it’s not because he’s getting desperate to sell. It could only mean it could get sloppy. Again. And he sure as _fuck_ does not want this to get sloppy when Y/N is right in the middle of it.

He is still wary, and after the fifth time he’s got Y/N’s voicemail, he’s starting to feel more jittery than he should in normal circumstances.

“I think we should go in.” Ray mutters, with a shake of his head, not tearing his eyes away from the warehouse.

It’s dark, and there’s only one functioning lamp in the whole lot and if that doesn’t seem foreboding he’d eat his own fucking hand. He doesn’t like that Y/N is in there alone, a request Christie made clear that if broken, the whole deal’s off. He doesn’t like that this does not take place like a normal conversation in a bar or Mickey’s office or anywhere else more _civilised_ for that matter, because what the fuck are they? They are just selling weed, for fuck’s sake, why the fuck is Y/N in a fucking dark warehouse like an animal being prepared for slaughter? Sure, they’ve done a lot of shit in warehouses themselves, but that’s just _it_. A lot of unspoken of _shit_.

“Would you stop shaking your fucking leg?” Mickey snaps. “We agreed on giving her half an hour. I don’t like this either, but she still has 5 more minutes.”

Ray is ready to bound out the door when the time’s up and Y/N is still nowhere to be seen. The sound of a phone cuts through the tension and silence that’s been stretching between the four men in the car. He turns to Mickey, who takes out his phone and reads the message, and Ray feels like the wind is knocked out of his lungs when he sees his boss throw the door open and bolting towards the warehouse without an explanation.

Bunny and Big Dave quickly follow after him, guns at the ready, but it takes Ray one more second to react before running blindly after them. They find Mickey frantically searching what Ray realises with a sinking dread to be an empty building. Christie is not here, his men are not here, but most importantly, _Y/N is not here._

“Boss, what is going on?” Bunny asks quietly.

Mickey mumbles something unintelligible, forcing Big Dave to fearfully prod further, awaiting an explanation.

“THEY TOOK _MY FUCKING_ SISTER!”

The words bounce off the empty walls, and Raymond feels like he’s spiralling down into insanity.

*

Two hours later, they have a request for ransom. Mickey is to give up the business in exchange for nothing, and Christie will _gracefully_ allow him, his wife and his sister to leave the country without having all of them hounded down and killed. He would accept any man who’d like to stay on for him, but he supposes – correctly – that they’re all too loyal to Pearson to even offer. He’ll even let Mickey keep the money he already has, just out of the goodness of his heart. Cunt.

Mickey is pacing again, after having finished nearly an entire full glass of whiskey, thrown over the desk in the middle of the office, kicked a lamp and ripped off the curtains. Ray wishes he could let out his frustration and fucking _dread_ out as well, but he’s forcing his brain to work in overdrive, coming up with a solution whose top priority (and only result he actually cares about) is to get Y/N out of this. His gaze shifts towards Rosalind, who’s sat on the ledge of the window, seemingly ignoring them both, having kept quiet ever since she arrived at the apartment. Ray supposes if there’s anyone in this entire world who understands Y/N completely, it’s her. But before he can place his laptop down in order to go over to her and discuss the idea that’s starting to swirl in his mind, Mickey slams down a hand on the wall.

“Right. Ray, I need you to find out where the fuck this little cunt operates and get me Guy on the phone. We’re smoking this little shit out.”

“You can’t bomb him.” Ray says, an impatient sigh escaping his lips. “If you do that, the next thing you’ll see is Y/N’s body on your doorstep. It will literally mean war.”

“It already means war!” He roars. “I will rip this fucker limb for limb if he thinks he can lay a hand on my sister and get away with it _and_ my business.”

“We’re not bombing him.” Ray says finally.

Mickey turns to his underling, his left eyebrow twitching, jaw clenched so tight he might actually bite through his teeth. His nose is red, but he’s not so drunk that his face would become purple with madness anytime soon. Rosalind is still quiet and to be completely fair, it’s starting to tick Ray off. _Why the fuck isn’t she helping?_ At least to get her rabid husband to calm down enough to start thinking rationally.

“I don’t remember anyone putting you in charge.” Mickey’s voice strangely resembles that of a snake, but Ray’s heard it enough times to not be bothered. At this point in time, Mickey is the last person he gives a fig about. “I am the boss and if I say we’ll smoke them out, that’s exactly what you’re going to arrange.”

“I couldn’t give a dog’s arse what you say, Mickey. This is a stupid plan and it’s bound to get her killed so you can either sit down and shut up until I come up with a plan or sober up enough to help me.”

There’s a beat of silence in the room, enough to hear Rosalind shift in her seat towards them. She looks at her husband, who’s staring incredulously at Raymond, but he’s shocked into silence at the blatant disobedience. For all of Ray’s cold blood, Y/N found his every weakness and became the heart of them.

“I don’t know what little game you’ve been playing with my baby sister, you fucking dickhead, but that _does not_ mean that I will accept you disrespecting me like this.” Mickey sneers.

Raymond stands up, an inch between their faces now. Rosalind watches them warily, sure that if there will be any sudden movements around them, they’d just throw themselves at each other’s throats like rabid dogs.

“I’m not _playing_ any game with your sister.” Ray seethes, a finger pointing to Mickey’s face. “I care about her and I’m trying to get her home safe, without starting a turf war, something that your fucking ego could never understand. Now. Will you fucking sober up so we can sort this shit out or are you going to keep on acting like a little cunt?”

Rosalind jumps up then, pushing them apart right when Mickey gets a hold of Ray’s jacket. She feels the rumbling of their growls in their chests, right under her hands. She hates these stupid displays of masculinity, especially when _now is not the fucking time._

“Calm down.” She says.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Ray shouts, anger stretching his patience thin. “This is your fucking fault.” He goes on, finger still pointing at Mickey. “You went on with this motherfucking _stupid_ plan, thinking that just because she’s a bird, she’ll get a better deal out of it than you ever would. Instead of dealing with it yourself or let _me_ fucking do it, you agreed to let her go, when you know you could’ve _easily_ found a way around it, you sick fuck! Or how about this, huh? How about _not_ going forward with it _at all_ for fuck’s sake because it’s not like YOU COULDN’T FIND ANYONE ELSE TO BUY YOUR _FUCKING_ BUSINESS WITHOUT INVOLVING Y/N.”

Raymond ignores the little step forward Mickey takes, and Rosalind’s hand on his chest would do nothing to stop him if they’d actually get around to throwing punches. Ray doesn’t want that though. It would mean more wasted time, and he’s already wasted enough, so he grabs his laptop, set on going down to Coach’s gym. He needs help, and apparently he won’t get any from Mickey anytime soon.

Ray stops in the doorway, and turns to where the two are still standing, watching him. “Listen to me, Mickey, and listen well. She might be smarter than all of us, but you better pray to all that’s fucking mighty that no one even touched her before I get to her or I will fucking rip your eyes out and I don’t give a bloody shit you’re my fucking boss.”

*

One hour later, Raymond is punching a gym bag, his knuckles are bleeding and sweat is dripping on the mat. The AC does little to relieve the tension in his muscles, and even after chucking his shirt off, he feels too hot, too restless, too panicked to sit still. Coach does everything he can to have a proper conversation with him, although he has to push his glasses up on his nose with every rattle of the bag.

His boys are scattered around the gym, now sitting all quietly, after they’d first gone berserk at the news. Raymond supposes he shouldn’t have been surprised that Y/N’s both met all of them, as well as gotten them all completely smitten.

“You know you gotta talk this out with Mickey, right?” Coach says. “I get that you got at it badly, mate, but he’s her brother. You both want to get her out of this.” A slight rumble from the room makes him roll his eyes. “We _all_ want to get her out of this, but we can’t if we won’t work together.”

Raymond stops with his fist in the air. He looks at Coach briefly, and although he fucking _hates_ to admit it, of course he’s right. Clenching his teeth, he turns around to grab a towel, only to be faced with an obviously just as irked Mickey.

“Rosalind might have a plan.” He says with a nod, enough to show he’s willing to get over their row without hard feelings. “She has some messages from Y/N that she’s sent a few weeks back. Ros thinks Y/N sent them as a precaution in case some shit like this would happen.”

Raymond fixes his glasses and nods, a faint smile on his lips. “Smart girl.”

“I need you and your guys as well, Coach.” Mickey says.

“Whatever you need, Mr Pearson sir.” Primetime offers.

Mickey turns to Coach’s protégés, who are now starting to huddle together, ready to follow orders. A look in Coach’s direction would be enough to know that the man would’ve preferred not to get them involved in this, but he knows damn well this would be an interdiction they would never comply with. So, with a sigh, he nods his assent.

“Let’s get going then.” Mickey says. “I need to have some words with this motherfucker who thinks he can mess with my family.”


End file.
